"How about… no," Van Dijk replied, his smile growing only wider as he casually leaned back in his chair, one leg crossed over the other. His eyes shimmered with a kind of amused defiance, the kind of glint found only in those who had long stopped fearing consequence. He carved another sliver of steak with unsettling calm, the metallic scrape of knife against porcelain ringing louder than it should have in the silence that followed.
The cardinal's brow furrowed, the muscles in his face tightening with confusion and growing annoyance.
"What do you mean, no?" he asked, each word pressed out between clenched teeth. He wasn't used to refusals, certainly not from prisoners, and especially not from one who was supposed to be long broken by now. His voice held the kind of cold patience that frayed easily.
